


Lips Pressed Close To Mine

by alexenglish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Oneshot, Pride festival and parade, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/alexenglish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Maybe not any homophobe, but a mass gathering of homophobes who quote the First Amendment and the bible to spew hatred? I can get my panties in a bunch over that all I want.”</p><p>“Whoa, panties?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lips Pressed Close To Mine

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt list](http://heavenlyhale.tumblr.com/post/114834516242/au-ideas): There’s an Anti-gay rally over there, do you want to make out and piss them off? now with gorgeous fanart from [Gri](http://gri-clover.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!
> 
> apparently, I can't concentrate on what I _need_ to be writing. whatever. here's another little one!

“Stuff like that just pisses me off,” Derek growls, watching as the picketers set up in a designated area outside of the festival grounds. The fact that they even _have_ a designated area is disgusting. The disadvantage to working across the street from where they hold Pride is having to see these guys every single year, sometimes more than once a year.

“What stuff?” Laura asks, peeking over his shoulder. He gestures at the protesters. One brandishes a “GOD HATES FAGS” sign. Cliche, over-done. They really need to think of better accusations.

“You’d think if God hated fags, there wouldn’t be enough of them to have a _parade_ ,” Derek says. The idea that homosexuality is anything beside completely natural is archaic to say the least. It’s 2015. There’s multiple psychological studies that point to biological origins when it comes to sexual orientation, _and yet_.

“Be a duck,” Laura says, inanely, patting his shoulder. “Let the water roll off your back. You can’t get your panties in a bunch about every homophobe out there.”

“Maybe not any homophobe, but a mass gathering of homophobes who quote the First Amendment and the bible to spew hatred? I can get my panties in a bunch over that all I want.”

“Whoa, panties?” someone says. Derek turns to see a guy standing at the register, eyeing him up and down. There’s a rainbow painted on his right cheek, honey-brown eyes amused. Derek’s breath stalls in his chest, like a punch in the gut. Bow lips, lick lashes, mischievous smirk. Derek’s mouth goes dry, this guy is _that_ attractive. “You seem like a black, silk kind of guy. What do you think, Scott?”

The guy behind him chuckles and rolls his eyes. They set down five bottles of water on the counter top, sunblock, and hot Cheetos. They’re definitely here for the festival.

“Leave him alone, Stiles,” the Scott guy says. “Don’t hit on poor, defenseless cashiers.”

“He doesn’t _look_ defenseless,” Stiles says, tone heavy with innuendo. He eyes Derek’s arms again and Derek flushes.

“The state of my panties isn’t any of your business,” Derek replies, bagging up their things. Scott hands over a card, while Stiles stares at him with a smirk.

“What if I want them to be?” he asks. Scott laughs outright and shoves Stiles shoulders, dragging the bags off the counter. As they leave, Derek can hear Stiles shouting, looking back at Derek through the glass, “this is why I can’t get a date!”

“Get a date more appropriately!” Scott says, pulling his arm. Stiles grins back at Derek, flapping his arm goodbye. Derek gives him a tentative wave in return and Stiles winks at him before disappearing.

“He was cute,” Laura says, leaning her hip against the counter. The look on her face is beyond amused, she’s totally laughing at him. Yes, he was cute. He’d look cuter sweaty and covered in bruises.

“He was annoying,” Derek deflects.

“You do like them mouthy.”

“Shut up.”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. After the parade, there’s an influx of people buying drinks, preparing to go into the festival. There’s an assortment of attractive guys and girls, multiple people hit on him. There isn’t anyone who makes his heart skip a beat like Stiles did, so he just smiles and ignores their advances.

Stiles never comes back, the water and sunblock must have been enough to hold them over until they got inside. Derek tries not to be disappointed and fails. His stomach lurches every time the bell over the door announces a new arrival.

“I can’t handle you,” Laura says, hitting him with a rolled up magazine. Another group of festival goers came in and out. None of them were Stiles. The sun’s starting to set, painting the sky in oranges and reds. It’s almost time to go home. “Please leave. Go home or go hang out outside of Pride and see if you can spot him coming out.”

Derek scowls at her.

“That’s not creepy at all.”

“What can I say, you’re a creepy dude.”

“I’m not —”

“Leave, Derek!”

Derek sticks his tongue out at her and clocks out. He’s not, absolutely not going to go across the street to hang out and see if he can catch Stiles coming out. Absolutely not. It doesn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the entrance, just maybe.

There’s two figures coming out of the gate. It’s getting dark, but Derek is pretty sure —

It’s definitely Stiles. Derek doesn’t have any qualms about jogging across the street, nerves tangling in excitement. There’s no way he’s letting Stiles get away twice.

“Hey, wait!” Derek says, when they’re closer. Scott and Stiles both look around, confused. Derek stumbles to a halt. “Stiles, right?” He tries to control his breathing so that he’s no panting. It doesn’t work.

“Oh, gas station dude?” Stiles says, eyebrows raised. Behind him, Scott looks like he’s about to dissolve into hysterics.

“Derek.”

“Derek —”

“Did you just run over here?” Scott asks.

“I didn’t want to miss you,” Derek says, starting to feel the slow-creep of embarrassment catching up with him. The look on Stiles’ face hasn’t moved passed “shocked” or “amazed”. His mouth is hanging open. “I wanted your number.”

That shocks Stiles out of it. His mouth clicks shut, face blooming into something happier.

“Really? Totally! I mean —”

“Get a room, faggots,” someone says. Derek jerks, looking to their right. He didn’t realize that they stopped in front of the protesters. He was too distracted by Stiles being there, sweaty underneath the street light, looking disheveled. A whole day at a festival will do that to a person. The protesters are all watching with looks of unrestrained disgust.

“There are children who walk these sidewalks,” one of them says, Derek can’t tell who. “They shouldn’t have to watch this!”

“You shall not lie with a man as with a woman. It is an abomination!”

“What the hell?” Stiles says, face crumpling into a frown before he looks _angry_. “You’re the one who brought the children outside of a Pride festival —”

“Stiles —” Scott says.

“No, seriously, how out of context is that quote? You’re ridiculous —”

“Stiles!”

“You’re _harrassing people_ —”

There’s a little crowd gathering of people coming out of Pride or waiting to cross the street. The protesters are talking over Stiles, yelling bible verses and telling him he’s going to hell.

“What happened to love one another, you turds? I love _all man_!” Stiles says, still riled up. He flips off the protesters and grabs Derek’s arms, bringing him in. They stare at each other for a minute as the people around them get quiet. Stiles fidgets, tightening his hold, “ _Well_?”

Oh.

Derek cups Stiles’ face and kisses him deeply, not bothering to restrain himself. The crowd around them cheers enthusiastically as they make out on the sidewalk. It’s all tongues and teeth, wet and warm. Stiles tastes salty, smells like warm grass and dust. Derek wants to kiss Stiles _forever_ , holy shit. Around them, Derek can hear the shudder-click of cameras, the flash lights up his eyelids.

When they pull back, Stiles’ mouth is bruised, the smile on his face is radiant.

“About that number?” he asks. Derek looks past him at the shocked faces of the protesters. He chuckles, sweeping his thumbs over Stiles’ cheekbones.

“I’m definitely going to need yours.”

 

 

artwork courtesy of [gri-clover](http://gri-clover.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> ISN'T GRI'S ART SO GREAT?  
> thanks for reading!


End file.
